Blond hair is a symbol of the royal family of Castaros. On top of that, she was known for frequently volunteering at a nearby orphanage accompanied by a knight. Since their primary job was, as Karia had said, “chasing others around and buying or selling information,” they had naturally already figured that much out.
However, something felt different today. Who would have expected that the woman, who always seemed as fragile as mist flowers that would wither by tomorrow, would suddenly step forward like a general from some country and boldly present a pile of gold?
“It doesn’t seem like she deliberately corroded it to erase the source. These pieces look at least a few hundred years old.”
“Even excluding defective ones, there must be well over 3,000 large gold coins. Could she have even more?”
“Who knows. Hard to say.”
Three hundred thousand gold—while it seems like a lot for one person, it’s not necessarily excessive if you’re planning something big.
From what he knew, her standing in the Pandeon family wasn’t very good, and she didn’t associate with the Grand Duke’s family either.
More than the gold’s origin, the man was extremely curious why a woman who had seemingly lived like the dead since getting married would suddenly show up with so much money.
“Well, we’ll probably see her again soon enough. No need to rush.”
“I don’t know. Once she takes the coins, who knows when she’ll come back?”
“Tsk, Desimone, you really don’t know anything.”
The man frowned sympathetically and shook his head at his subordinate, Chagall Desimone, as if disappointed by how clueless he was.
“She saw my face. Didn’t you see the way her eyes trembled?”
At those words, cracks appeared on Chagall Desimone’s loyal expression. Though he respected his superior in every way, he never knew what face to make when he said things like this.
“This god-gifted, sculpture-like face has stolen another young lamb’s heart. Perhaps only a mythical elf could rival these looks.”
As he began his usual self-praise, the other subordinates pretended not to hear and returned to their work. Only Chagall Desimone, his lieutenant and right-hand man, had to endure hearing a story he had probably heard ten thousand times already.
“Sir, please…!”
“‘Noah.’”
The man, whose beauty supposedly rivaled even an elf’s, silenced his subordinate’s protest with a single word. Though he was still smiling, the sunset-tinted eyes between his narrowed lids warned him.
“I told you to call me Noah in this country. Are you planning to make the same mistake again?”
Noah’s low voice tightened around Chagall’s neck. Realizing his mistake, Chagall flinched, and Noah let out a deep sigh and leaned back in his old, creaky chair.
“I’m sorry, Lord Noah. I mean… Commander.”
“How long has it been, and you’re still not used to it?”
“But to us, you’ll always be…”
Chagall couldn’t finish the sentence. The squeaky chair looked far too humble to be a throne.
But all the subordinates, including Chagall, shared the same thought: the man seated there was more than worthy of their lifelong loyalty.
—
—
“Puh!”
Karia didn’t even know how she got back to the capital square. In a daze, she dismounted and dunked her head straight into the fountain. Only when the cold water prickled her skin and stifled her breath did she finally lift her head.
Her tightly tied blonde hair clung to her pale face, soaked with water. But the pounding in her chest didn’t subside.
“No. Definitely not.”
That man wasn’t Gilford. Her head understood that, but every time her racing heart pumped blood through her veins, her mind blurred—she couldn’t tell whether this was a dream or reality.
How could someone look so much like him? How could someone like that appear at a time like this?
“I have to make an elixir.”
Before she could even think it, her stunned lips spilled the truth.
The moment she saw his face, her body reacted before her mind could process anything. His breath, the blink of his eyes—it was all enough to stop her own breathing.
She thought she had accepted that it was all beyond her control now. But clearly, she hadn’t. She hadn’t moved on at all from that day when she faced Gilford and Eddy’s deaths.
She had simply buried the sorrow deep in the darkness of her chest for the sake of composure. But the moment she saw a man with Gilford’s face, all that hidden grief burst forth like it had never been sealed away.
“It’s shallow. My current life is too shallow to bury what once meant everything to me.”
Seeing that man’s face made her realize all over again how immense the happiness she had lost truly was.
“If I live—if I keep living alone for a hundred or even a thousand years and search—I might meet him again. After all, I’m here as proof of that.”
The memories that once made her soul bleed had not decayed with time. So she decided—she would hold that precious thing in her arms once again.
“Maybe… maybe he’s really close. Maybe he’s lost his memory, just like me.”
The man’s face flickered under her closed eyelids and disappeared.
He was clearly different from the Gilford she had known. But maybe his personality had changed because of his upbringing. She herself was living proof that such changes were possible.
Karia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, her reflection in the water showed a young woman with red eyes.
Straightening her once-slumped shoulders, she smiled brightly through her exhaustion.
Now that she had a purpose in life, a sharp clarity returned to her formerly dull eyes.
This time, she would grasp eternal happiness with her own hands.
—
—
“Another night out, I see.”
Returning to the Pandeon estate in the early evening after her business, Karia frowned when she saw her husband descending the front steps.
“You’re home at this hour? What brings such a busy man back?”
“Darling!”
At his sharp call, Karia’s face twisted further. Lately, everyone seemed so loud whenever they stood before her.
“You don’t need to shout. I’m still your wife, remember?”
“His Grace, the Grand Duke, sent a letter through someone. He was asking about what happened with you. I replied that there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Well, you’re quick when it suits you, aren’t you?”
The Grand Duke’s letter was clearly a warning—to both the Duke of Pandeon and likely to her as well. Though the letter didn’t mention divorce, it still left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.
If only he had been that quick when a young girl like her had once asked for help.
“This morning, I let your mother out of her room.”
“What?”
“I think that’s enough now, don’t you? If you’re still angry, then punish me.”
Lubidov walked up with his hands behind his back and stood tall before her. A challenge, as if daring her to do her worst. He clearly didn’t think she’d do anything.
Karia didn’t hesitate. She reached out and yanked the neatly tied cravat down.
“What kind of punishment do you think I’ll give?”
“D-Darling…”
“So, my husband thinks I’m really that easy, huh?”
He responded to the Grand Duke’s letter without consulting her, released the Duchess without asking. He hadn’t even pretended to respect her wishes. And then he had the nerve to say he was disappointed?
Karia thought that if this was what they called marriage, even a passing dog would laugh its head off.
Disgusted, she let go of her husband’s collar and pushed him away.
“Urgh…! Did you hear something? Is that why you’re acting like this?”
“Heard something?”
“Anything… about me, maybe?”
The Duke dusted himself off with a cough and carefully watched her expression.
He’s worried I heard something? What could that be?
“No, never mind. Just forget it. Goodbye.”
After watching her reaction for a while, the Duke seemed reassured that Karia knew nothing. He exhaled silently in relief.
Seeing his carefree back as he left, Karia let out a bitter laugh.
“He’s really unbelievable.”
He does everything his own way and only gets cautious about one thing… He claims to be busy, yet still finds time to fool around with other women?
He must know she loved him. That’s why he watched her reaction. That’s why he still did what he did.
Which only made Karia more certain.
He was never someone who could be fixed.
—
—
“What? Divorce?!”
During a rare, intimate family lunch, the Emperor raised his voice in shock at the unbelievable news—that Karia had gone to her father to request a divorce.
“She’s stirring up the royal family again! Where would she ever find a husband of that caliber again?!”
The Grand Duke never wanted to send the quiet and reserved Karia to another country. But they also couldn’t marry her off to someone of too low a title. The most suitable matches were dukes or, at the very least, marquises.
There weren’t many men around her age. One had a bad reputation with women and violence, another was so ugly everyone agreed he
was hideous.
So they carefully selected one who looked decent and had no bad rumors.
And now—divorce? What nonsense was that?
